My
Soul To Keep
Fearless
5
Kris
Norris
Genre: Paranormal romance
Publisher: All Romance eBooks
Date of Publication: July 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-945193-08-8
Word Count: 75000
Cover Artist: Erin Dameron Hill
Book Description:
A deadly cycle…a haunting legacy.
From the moment Detective Caitlyn
Decker arrives at the scene, she knows this crime is anything but a routine
killing. The cryptic note. The contradictory evidence. The violence. There’s no
doubt in her mind her life’s about to get complicated. Add Special Agent Deacon
McGraw into the mix—a man she’s had an unfortunate crush on for the past six
months—and it’s shaping up to get downright messy.
Deacon has waited twenty years to
solve his father’s murder. If his calculations are correct, this recent killing
is connected to it, and the start of something grisly. After nearly convincing
himself his father’s outlandish theories on a cold case were nothing more than
a slow slide into madness, Deacon’s suddenly faced with a harsh truth—no one’s
going to believe him, either.
Caitlyn’s not sure what to make
of Deacon’s claims. But she’s willing to give him a chance—one that quickly
translates into more than just a working relationship. Becoming lovers carries
more risks than simple heartbreak. One miscalculation, or a loss of faith, and
they just might lose their souls.
Excerpt:
“Bloody hell.”
Detective
Caitlyn Decker shook her head before pressing her fingers against the bridge of
her nose, closing her eyes as pain throbbed through her temples, not that it’d
do much good. The headache had already taken root, somehow pulsing with every
beat of her heart. Nothing but time or drugs would touch it now. And, somehow,
downing half a bottle of Motrin while working a murder scene didn’t seem like a
viable solution. She glanced at the paper again, rereading the words scribbled
across the crisp white sheet.
Some choices are
easy, some aren’t. Can you guess which one this was?
Christ, she’d
officially seen it all.
A male snort
drew her attention, and she shifted her focus as Detective David Truman knelt
beside the body, giving it the once-over. He gazed up at her, exhaling loudly
as he gained his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, nodding at one of
the CSI technicians as they snapped some photographs.
He turned to
face her. “Not exactly the kind of case you want to grab at the end of a shift,
huh?”
She shrugged.
“Thinking there isn’t a right time for a case like this, period. We both know
that note means trouble.”
Truman glanced
at the paper, nodding. “Just another Wednesday as far as I’m concerned.”
She frowned at
his hollow tone, spinning slightly toward him. “You sound more cynical than
usual. Everything okay?”
“Peachy. You?”
She shook her
head. “Fine. Keep secrets.” She toed the pavement. “So, you aren’t on shift for
another two hours. Why the early start?”
“I needed to get
out of the house, and I heard the call come through over the radio. Thought I’d
check it out…see if you wanted me to take it for you.”
“And let you
have all the fun? That’s crazy talk.” She nudged his elbow. “You and Clare
okay? We can go grab coffee after if you’d like.”
“God, who are
you, Dr. Phil? I’m fine.” He glanced over her shoulder, cursing. “Looks like
the feds just pulled up. You sure you don’t want me to take this? Their
presence here probably means a joint endeavor, and seeing as you got stuck with
the last one…”
Caitlyn did her
best to calm the sudden pounding of her heart. The last thing she needed was to
sound breathless. And all because of who might have just arrived. “I’m good.
But I can count on your help if I need it, right?”
“It’ll cost
you.”
“It always
does.”
Truman gave her
a mock salute before trudging off toward his car. She heard him murmur a token
hello to the fed he’d mentioned, the gravelly reply beading her skin with a
sudden rash of goose bumps. She took a few soothing breaths, only to jump when
a rumble of thunder sounded off to the east, the promise of rain heavy in the
early morning air. A nearby streetlight buzzed as it flickered, casting odd
shadows against the brick building before settling, again. She turned up her
collar against a blast of cold, damp air, tucking her hands in her pockets.
After a few weeks of summer-like weather, the sudden shift into more typical
spring temperatures felt even colder than usual. Or maybe it was just her. A
reminder of how little else she had in her life to make the endless string of
homicides bearable. To chase away the incessant chill that seemed to have
settled bone-deep inside her.
Footsteps
scuffed the pavement behind her as the fed moved into her peripheral view. She
didn’t turn to greet the man. Couldn’t. Not when her face felt more than
flushed. Special Agent Deacon McGraw—or Deke as he usually went by—headed the
violent crimes unit for the Seattle branch of the Federal Bureau of
Investigation, and he seemed to be the bureau’s prime choice in interagency
ventures. Not that she had a clue why he was here. As far as she was concerned,
this was just a routine killing in an alley of one of the poorer districts the
city had to offer. Nothing to suggest it fell under federal jurisdiction. Her
gaze strayed to the paper lying beside the victim’s bloody body, the words
glaring at her. Perhaps routine wasn’t quite the correct term.
Deke cleared his
throat as he crouched beside the corpse, using a pen to twist the paper
slightly. He cocked his head to the side, glancing at her as he stood. “Just
what this city needs, a killer with a twisted sense of humor.”
Caitlyn crossed
her arms over her chest. “I’ll admit. I found the note…odd.”
He chuckled.
“Odd? It’s creepy as hell, though I think we both know the answer to his
question. The way the throat’s been sliced damn near through to the vic’s
spinal column, the arcs of blood against the wall, not to mention the fact the
guy’s been virtually gutted…thinking it wasn’t a hard choice for the bastard
that did this.”
“I don’t
know…all that defensive bruising along his arms, the marks on his head. The guy
fought hard. Could suggest reluctance on the part of our perp.”
“Or the killer’s
not as strong as he thought he was.”
Caitlyn snorted,
waving at the guy spread out across the black asphalt. “The victim’s easily
two-twenty and those muscles aren’t fake. The guy obviously put in some heavy
hours at the gym. And that faded tattoo on his wrist means he was part of the
Fifth Street gang at some point. That kind of street tough doesn’t ever really
go away. Thinking there aren’t many people who’d even consider taking him on.
Lord knows, I wouldn’t want to have met him in a dark alley.”
“At least, not
to fight.”
“Seriously,
Deacon? He’s not even cold, yet.”
“But he was
pretty. Thinking guys like him would want that noticed, even under these
circumstances.” He winked at her. “Especially by a sexier than hell cop.”
“That’s
detective to you, G-man. Besides he’s not my type.”
“That so? What
is your type, Detective?”
“Still breathing
would be a good start.”
Deke grinned,
the simple gesture making her heart race. Damn, but the man was handsome.
Shaggy brown hair, the perfect amount of scruff, and those eyes—so fucking blue
it made her stomach flip-flop. She’d had an unfortunate crush on the guy since
they’d worked an assignment together six months ago, and bumping into him every
few weeks on any potential crossover cases only made the fire in the pit of her
gut burn hotter.
She drew in a
much-needed breath, turning to fully face him. “So, there something about this
case I’m unaware of? A reason I’m going to have to play nice with the bureau?”
Deacon placed
his hand over his heart, the wind tousling his hair around his face. “And here
I thought you liked playing nice with me. That hurts, Caitlyn.”
She did her best
to ignore the way his words curled over her flesh, making her skin prickle as
if he’d actually touched her. Damn, she shouldn’t react to him like this.
She glanced at
the body again. “Is this where you tell me there’s a slew of other bodies just
like this one scattered across the country? All with cryptic messages that make
your skin crawl? Which makes this whole damn mess some jurisdictional bullshit?
Because honestly, if that note is any indication of what direction this case is
going to take, I might be inclined to just hand it over to you. No fighting. No
whining to my superiors.”
His expression
sobered, the lines of his face becoming slightly harsher. He scanned the
alleyway, motioning her to join him in a relatively unoccupied area off to
their left. Caitlyn followed him, unsure whether it was curiosity or the
inklings of fear making her stomach tighten. Or maybe it was just him. He
stopped when he reached a dumpster, looking up and down the narrow road again
before focusing on her. Those crystal blue eyes of his made her breath hitch,
the intensity of his expression bordering on lethal.
She reached up,
palming his shoulder, wondering why he suddenly seemed so serious. As if the
previous banter had just been for show. “Hey, you okay?”
“I was better
before I got here.”
She pulled her
hand back, tucking it in her pocket. “Thanks, Deke. Way to boost my fragile
ego.”
He chuckled,
leaning in dangerously close. His breath feathered over her cheek, rustling the
wisps of hair that had pulled free from her ponytail. “Sweetheart, you’re the
only silver lining in this whole mess.”
Her face heated
again as his jaw brushed hers when he eased back, palming the brick behind her
head. The position virtually trapped her between him and the building, his
chest grazing hers as she inhaled deeply. Her pulse kicked up as her breasts
rubbed across his pecs, the slight friction making her nipples peak against her
shirt. Thank God she had on far too many layers for him to notice. She cursed
inwardly. Now wasn’t the time or the place to consider anything other than the
task at hand. But damn…every new case, every lost soul just seemed to be a
hollow echo of her life. Claimed a bit more of the part of her she’d tried to
lock away—keep safe. And she knew that, sooner or later, there’d be nothing
left of her. Nothing left for her to give to anyone other than an empty shell
of the person she’d once been.
She scanned the
area, expecting someone to start yelling suggestive comments, but no one seemed
to notice them. Or maybe everyone was simply too focused on the dead body
splattered across the pavement to spare them a passing glance.
Caitlyn schooled
her features. “Obviously, there’s something much deeper going on here than one
creepy note and a dead body. So spill.”
Deacon tilted
his head slightly, a hushed sigh sounding between them. “It’s…complicated.”
“Everything with
you is…complicated.”
He arched a
brow. “I could say the same thing about you, but…” He raked his free hand
through his hair. “For the record, this isn’t the first body. Or the first
note. There’s just one catch.”
“There always is.”
She moistened her lips, quirking her mouth into a hint of a smile. “And…”
“The truth is,
this is the thirteenth victim in a string of killings, all of which have the
same MO and the same type of cryptic note.”
“Thirteenth?
Strange how I haven’t heard anything about it. Not so much as a bulletin over
the wire. There a reason for that?”
“The murders
began about sixty years ago. The killer seems to target fit, young males in
their prime. There were six deaths, then nothing for about forty years. Then
suddenly, there were six more. An agent tied the two cases together, despite
the first file being buried beneath a bunch of high security red tape, but he
was killed during the investigation. The bureau pretty much back-burnered the
whole thing when the killings stopped as mysteriously as they’d begun. In fact,
there hasn’t been another case…until now.”
Review:
This was a wonderful read and I very much enjoyed it! The tension was hot and the love scenes even hotter. *ice water alert!* This author will be on my watch list and I can't wait for more.
5/5
About the Author:
Kris Norris is a jack-of-all
trades who's constantly looking for her ever-elusive clone.
A single mother and slave to
chaos, Kris started writing some years back, and it took her a while to realize
she wasn't destined for the padded room, and that the voices chattering away
inside her head were really other characters trying to take shape. (And since
they weren't telling her to conquer the human race, she went with it. Though
she supposes if they had...insert evil laugh).
Kris loves writing erotic novels.
She loves heroines who kick butt, heroes who are larger than life, and sizzling
love scenes that leave you feeling just a bit breathless.
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